


If only we knew

by dogtired



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A short fic, Angst, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Oneshot, Self-Harm, Strong mentions of self-harm, Swearing (is this a thing to tag?), Trans Characters, Transgender Characters, klance, slight dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtired/pseuds/dogtired
Summary: Hate is a strong word.It’s a word that he’d never thought of using on anyone or anything with true malice. Maybe he would use the word in an offhand comment about how he ‘hated the taste of tomatoes’ or how he ‘hated the look of angler fish’, or something entirely random or unprovoked with a light-hearted undertone. No balefulness, no spitefulness.At least that’s what he thought until he met a certain someone. A certain someone who would send a shiver of true waspish anger, that kept him awake at night in a cold sweat causing seething words to wonder in unsaid sentences, fantasies of conflict between him and said person.





	

Hate is a strong word.

It’s a word that he’d never thought of using on anyone or anything with true malice. Maybe he would use the word in an offhand comment about how he ‘hated the taste of tomatoes’ or how he ‘hated the look of angler fish’, or something entirely random or unprovoked with a light-hearted undertone. No balefulness, no spitefulness.

At least that’s what he thought until he met a certain someone. A certain someone who would send a shiver of true waspish anger, that kept him awake at night in a cold sweat causing seething words to wonder in unsaid sentences, fantasies of conflict between him and said person.

That said person was one other than the garrison dropout, Keith Kogane.

That was the one Lance _hated._ That was the one who made his blood boil.

It started when the two would train, side by side, together among others at the Garrison. No one quite setting off aggravation like Kogane did, as the two would clash in a heartbeat, fuelled by Lance’s slightly irrational envy and Keith’s natural talent in piloting the simulators. It was how Keith was ranked above, Lance in positon of Cargo pilot never quite meeting the requirements that Keith obviously had. That pissed him off through oblivion.

It must have been the way Keith glided through each and every simulation; every test that Lance struggled in. From another perspective, it was a silly and childish feud that lance had created to mask his insecurity in the matter, but to him, it was genuine.

As soon as the news Keith had been kicked out, Lance felt a weird mixture of relief and pressure. He would take next place, he wouldn’t have the same contact with anyone else, it was sad really. After a few weeks, he sort of missed Keith but would he ever admit to any of this? Nope, no, no, not in a million years.

Then it escalated to Voltron, the paladins all connected and Lance meeting Mr. one up himself again, whilst Keith was barely effected by Lance’s arrival. Wasn’t Lance lucky? Then they fought alongside one another and learnt to somewhat get along, to ‘bond’ as Keith had put it. Lance had remembered it of course but akin to most things related to Keith, he’d never mention how much it meant to him.

You see, Lance felt deep down that he wasn’t worthy of many things. He didn’t truly feel worthy to be a paladin, a defender. He didn’t feel as if he had a thing, a trait that pulled him from the rest. He was the clown; the one who created that good old fashioned comedy relief whilst everyone else had the stoic expressions plastered on their faces. Lance didn’t feel he was enough, the joker and the prankster, nothing else. The embarrassment.

These were some of the dark moments that no one could see. The thoughts that kept Lance awake almost each and every night, the thoughts that allowed him to lie in his unfamiliar bed and stare wide eyed at the beams of the ceiling above. Sadness would twist itself in his abdomen, if he was lucky he would be able to cry and get some of the pressure out. But most nights he was numb. So numb, he scratched at the tan skin on his arms, altering the pigment to red in irritation of his nails. His fingers dotting over the scars he’d given himself over the years. In fact, some nights he’d reel back into the self-scarring routine and make his own body reek of the iron stench he learnt to get used to.

The next morning, with plasters and antiseptic, he’d hide his self-hate. Smirk at his own jokes, flirt with Allura (even to an extent, Keith), Hang out with Hunk, Pidge, Shiro and Coran. Would anyone notice? No one, Lance would make this his problem and not involve anyone else. No one else needed to know.

One day, like most, he decided he needed a small get away. He’d heard of a pool placed in the castle and knew how much it had appealed to him. So he decided to check it out.

He crouched over his bed, blue trunks hugging the curves of his tanned hips and towel over his shoulders. He sighed, his hand slowly tracing the hard, flat lines of his chest, his binder heightening the feeling. Reason number one swimming was bittersweet, dysphoria. Reason number two, his self-destructive wounds dotted on his arms and legs. Thankfully, he had waterproof plasters to help coddle his harmed and broken skin. Other than that, swimming was an activity he truly loved, one that reminded him of home.

He’d found himself in a lift, hoping it would save him from walking up and down stairs. He’d folded his arms around his chest, hugging as tightly as possible almost causing his breath to falter in small sharp breaths. He’d never told any of his recent friends about being transgender; he’d always been terrified of how they’d react, and yet there he was with his white binder exposed for all to see. If anyone saw, he’d lie; say how it was a special bandage or something of the sort. Lance hadn’t planned this; he just needed to go where one other would at eleven in the night. Yeah, that’s right, no one would see.

Until a set of fingers curled themselves around the rim of the lift door, causing its swift, programmed open-and-close system to stop, his reassuring thoughts were rejected. Lance met face to face than one other than Keith, a similar dull, lidded look in his exhausted face. Lance didn’t know why but seeing Keith had melded both anxiety and comfort, juxtaposition of emotions flowing into one. His eyes traced the strong yet delicate line of Keith’s jaw, the smoothness of his pale skin on his neck, the sharp edge of his collarbone. Lance’s eyes were drifting to inspect the lines of what he thought would be an exposed chest. However it wasn’t.

He was met with the harsh, dark shade of a binder wrapped around tightly, too tightly, his somewhat muscular chest. Lance felt a pang of guilt, happiness, fear and acceptance all in one. Keith’s face was paler than usual when he lifted his eyes to face his ‘rival’, his dark eyes filled with a look of an emotion akin to fear. It wasn’t a good look, Lance decided.

Keith stuttered and turned to run, unable to face any questioning before a hand was gripped around his thin wrist, warm fingers wrapped around, feeling the outlines of his jutting bone. He inhaled a deep breath, turning to face Lance, now able to see how one arm was extended and the other moving from around his chest, exposing his own binder.

The two boys felt a genuine but quiet sense of acceptance, exchanged by the almost intimate scene between them. It was a long moment that lasted years but seconds and Keith’s face went from pale to warm within that time.

This wouldn’t solve his problems; Lance knew this for sure but at least he could connect to someone, even if was the one he supposedly ‘hated’. If anything, in this moment that word was too full of spite for Lance to even associate Keith with. He didn’t hate Keith, he never did. Okay, maybe at first that was the case, but that ‘hate’ turned to envy and then later to some weird sense of respect. Maybe it then turned into a crush, a strong confused crush that kept Lance awake at night with a hitch in his breath and fantasies only he knew of.

Lance hadn’t let go of Keith’s thin wrist, his grip strong but not tight; Keith didn’t seem to mind anyway. In fact, Keith moved forward letting Lance’s large hand reel him in closer, a soft look in his deep eyes. Those delicate eyes; the best of the best in Lance’s head, the irises lined with a colour akin to violet. The soft freckles dotted across his flushed cheeks and the blush lining itself vertically down his symmetrical nose. Fingers wrapped themselves around Lance’s shoulders and Keith was hugging him. _Keith was hugging him._

Lance felt a rush of blood to his cheeks more so than before and a warm feeling taking place in his chest. He hugged the slightly shorter boy back, questioning everything he’d ever thought about him being his ‘rival’. Rival had lost its meaning in a split second as he felt connected to Keith like none other in the team. That was a first.

It shocked Lance when a trickle ran down his neck where the other had rested his face. He pulled back ever so slightly, letting his hands travel to the sides of Keith’s slim face, tears framing the sides of his freckled cheeks and an unfamiliar smile painting his usually stoic expression. Lance never wanted to let go, he wanted happy moments like this to last forever. He thought this was a one-sided thought until Keith pulled Lance closer and touched his soft, pink lips to that of the other’s own.

The kiss was relatively short, sweet but full of purpose. They pulled away to look eye to eye, Keith’s blush evidently demonstrating to Lance he was just as embarrassed but interested as Lance was. Was he in love? Lance had always fallen in love easily but this was truly nothing he’d felt before. Keith’s kiss felt genuine, others had been fake or unrequited but Keith’s felt right. Lance didn’t need to check out the pool anymore, he’d rather stay in Keith’s arms, wrapped around Lance’s slim waist.   

“I’m sorry.” Lance muttered, his voice cutting the atmosphere but not altering the scene. Lance had been a prick. He’d been, technically, picking on Keith from the start, childishly angry over small gestures that hadn’t necessarily been aimed at him. He felt like a complete dick and honestly, he had been.

“For what?” Keith’s voice quietly surfaced after a good few moments.

“For being a dick?”

“You don’t need to- ah yeah, alright but hey It’s okay.”

“It’s not! I’ve been such a piece of shit to you from the st-“Keith grabbed the sides of Lance’s cheeks, recovered from his crying.

“Lance, shut the fuck up, I forgive you, I care about you and you’re ruining the moment, so be quiet and let me do this again.”

They kissed again. It was cheesy and silly but it meant a lot to the two boys, their cheeks both equally flushed. They pulled away and Lance came to a realisation.

“Hey, what the hell were we thinking?”

“What?” A little leap of panic cut into his chest.

“Going swimming but with binders on? These little fuckers are expensive; I can’t roll up into a space mall and get myself a new binder every other day. “

Keith started laughing, throwing his head up with a bright smile, his eyes closed and crinkled at the edges. Lance felt like this was a reason to keep going, to keep fighting.

How he thought he could use hate to label Keith was now a long gone mystery; hate is a strong word, a strong word that he’d never use to describe Keith Kogane.

**Author's Note:**

> hello hell o yes hi !
> 
> i haven't written fanfic in a looonnggg time so apologies if this is kind of terrible but hey a n g s t !
> 
> ,, casually projects some feeling on characters,, it's cool np np
> 
> -phoebe


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